Tradesmanship
by PatronSaintOfBEGA
Summary: Rounding off the Sportsmanship trilogy, Barbossa and Davy Jones attempt to steal the plot focus back from Tia Dalma and Cutler Beckett with a lot of rum and some exciting British swearwords. Yep, we ARE in the right fandom. Review and I love you!


**Hello folks, feather-duster's back from holidays with the concluding part to the whole mess that started with "Sportsmanship". And why is it pirate-themed? Cause feather-duster _finally_ managed to catch Pirates of the Caribbean 3: At World's End in a tiny cinema in Corfu (long story) while on the previously mentioned holidays, and, well, things just proceeded naturally from there. We may assume that Hillary has organised some variety of pirate-themed social gathering to view the movie, it's not particularly important to the plot. If there is one.**

**Anyway...onward, friends!**

**-------**

**Tradesmanship**

**-------**

Kai plunked down on a bar stool, sighing dispiritedly. He was diverted from ordering something high-percentage and possibly on fire, however, by a plastic cutlass appearing most unexpectedly in his field of vision.

"Tell me, Mister Hiwatari...do ye fear death?"

Frowning, he managed to trace the lilting Scottish accent back to a somewhat dishevelled-looking Davy Jones, sitting two barstools down from him. He inspected the apparition curiously. It had a worryingly convincing lobster claw for one hand, a noticeable lack of octopus about the face, and a wig of stringy green dreadlocks from under which protruded some offensvely ginger bangs. Kai scowled and straightened his hat.

"Oh shut up, Kingston."

Davy Jones frowned at him.

"We're _supposed_ to be being piratical."

"Or what?"

"Or Hillary will be angry."

The Russian glanced over to where the aforementioned female - dressed as _Captain_ Swann, if you don't mind - was berating a Pintel and Ragetti who bore a suspicious resemblance to Max and Daichi. He gritted his teeth.

"Okay. Belay that, or something. And you, get me a Johnnie Walker Black Label." The 'tender scuttled away. Kai slouched on the bar, picking at his costume's collection of rings, and wishing the ostrich plumes would stay a little _higher_ on the hat instead of so persistently dangling in front of his right eye. Around the hired rec room, various piratically-attired bladers were engaging in various piratically-themed activities under threat of Hillary, and no small amount of drinking was going on. The whisky arrived and he downed it in one.

"Same again."

"...I'll have ye strung from the bowsprit."

Kai rolled his eyes at the plastic cutlass, which had come back for an encore.

"I'm sure you will," he replied dryly. "What the hell's a bowsprit anyway?"

Davy Jones hummed thoughtfully, tucking another clump of incongruously orange hair back under the dreadlocks.

"Err, something to do with rigging, I think. By God's teeth," he added hurriedly. "But the point is, it'll hurt. And, you'll die."

"Get on with it already, then. I don't even like pirate movies," the Russian groused, staring morosely into his whisky glass. Nothing happened. After several minutes had passed, he turned to face his adversary. "...Well?"

"It's just.." Brooklyn shuffled his feet, kicking the barstool absentmindedly. "I mean, nobody's watching, are they?"

Kai looked around.

"Nope. They're all over there." He indicated the left-hand wall of the room, where a popstar-ish Tia Dalma and a lilac-haired Cutler Beckett were attempting to do each other mortal injuries with the mallets from the Whack-A-Monkey machine. What appeared to be the Russian Division of the East India Trading Company stood at the forefront of the gathering around them, shouting abuse. Crewmembers of the Flying Dutchman, who happened to look suspiciously like the rest of BEGA's finest, shouted back.

"Bugger it sideways."

"I could have you keelhauled, if you like," Kai offered. None of the crowd even looked in their direction.

"No thanks, I don't like that position very much."

The Russian's eyebrow twitched, but he decided not to comment.

"Fine then. Rum."

"Rum?"

"Rum."

-------

"Take what you can, give nothin'back!"

"Here," Kai objected, swaying dizzily, "Here, that's not even your line."

"_Fine_ then. Not s'if anyone _cares_. Scaberous dogs!"

"Tch." Pulling his hat off and dumping it on the bar, Captain Barbossa downed another shot. Tia Dalma and Cutler Beckett were still the centre of attention, duelling with pool cues.

"Y'know, we should _do_ somethin' about that," Davy Jones whined in his ear, "I mean, like...something."

Kai drew himself up authoratatively.

"I am not a man to suffer fools, nor strike a bargain with one!" The redhead scowled at him, puzzled.

"S'not fair, nobody was allowed to come as Jack. What'm I sposed to say?" Kai shrugged, staring muzzily at the crowd, who continued to completely disregard his existence.

"Sod it. They shouldn' be _ignoring_ us." A hand went to the pocket with his blade in it. His sense of wounded justice sprang to life, and promptly sat on the small voice suggesting that this wasn't a good idea, really, no really really. "Y'right. We need to do somethin'."

"Exacly. Something _big_. Right?"

"Right!"

The bartender recognised these people. He'd seen them on TV. He had also seen what happened when the little pieces on the top of the blades started lighting up in that fashion. He covertly ducked behind the bar and gave himself the rest of the night off.

"...Dranzer!"

"Zeus!"

-------

Ming-Ming knew Bryan's weakness was his left side. He couldn't seem to get the cue around to block hers in time. Now, she had the advantage, if she was only fast enough..

Unfortunately, her strategy did not count on the room exploding, just as she lunged, in a cavalcade of red flames and purple static.

**-------**

In the debris, people moved. Splintered peg-legs, bent hooks and torn eyepatches littered the area. Hillary would undoubtedly be furious.

Kai surveyed the scene, replacing his hat. The blast had sobered him up more than slightly.

"Well," he concluded after a few seconds, "I don't think they'll forget about us again in a hurry."

"Not probable," Brooklyn agreed, brushing pieces of ceiling out of his wig. "Good job."

"And you. Looks like we took out the whole roof as well, huh?"

"I reckon so."

"Hmm..." Kai paused, frowning. The growing number of people who had extracted themselves from the rubble were...staring at them. Gathering.

"You know," the redhead muttered thoughtfully from beside him, "_I_ think you gave it too much fire."

"Oh really?" Turning to face him, the Russian gave the tiniest possible hint of a smirk, then switched on his glare. "Well, you didn't give it _enough_ of whatever that crap is. And purple is a girly colour."

"Oh, like red isn't!"

"Red is manly! And as if you can talk, you're _ginger_."

"Yes, blue facepaint is sooo much cooler.."

"That's it, you - "

**-------**

Some distance away, Bryan and Ming-Ming emerged slowly from beneath the pool table, having both dived under it when the blast hit. They looked around, blinking in the light. Ming-Ming shaded her eyes with one hand, and pointed with the other.

"Look, over there."

Bryan looked. A crowd had gathered; there was shouting. He rolled his eyes.

"Fuck it," he muttered, and dragged her back under the table.

**End.**

**-------**

**NOTES:**

**...and a fun time was had by all. Or at least those not liable for the bills.**

**- No, feather-duster does not know what Bryan and Ming-Ming were planning on doing under the pool table, but sincerely hopes they used protection.**

**(...you can bang your head something nasty on a pool table.)**

**- If you haven't seen PotC, this will have been mysterious in the extreme. For visuals, try Google Image searching it. You will not be disappointed.**

**- EDIT: okay, somehow it keeps hanging itself from the nearest yardarm every time feather-duster types an explanation of who dressed as who/what here. In short, Neoborg are Beckett & the East India Co., G-Revolutions are Barbossa & his crew, and BEGA are Davy Jones & crew of the Flying Dutchman. Everyone else is everyone else. Comprende?**

**- Barbossa and Davy Jones rock out loud. Which is why they get to be dressed up as by some of feather-duster's _other_ favouritest characters.**

**- If you haven't seen the film, this was fairly spoiler-free. **

**- About the British-isms ("Sod it" etc.) - well, the cast of _Pirates_ have their origins pretty firmly in the UK. Will, Elizabeth, the Trading Co. guys and probably Jack are varying degrees of English, Gibbs sounds like a Westcountry lad, and Davy Jones is a Scot. Therefore, feather-duster gets to bring out some of her best Brit cusswords. (As for "Bugger it sideways"...how shocking. He looked like such a _nice_ boy.)**

**- As mentioned at the start, this is another of those inexplicable cast gatherings that feather-duster seems to have fics at. Having attended a number of similar events herself, she likes to think that the G-Rev cast _would_ get together and partay once in a while. Remember, over here we don't have a _drinking_ age, only a _buying_ age. **

**- Further to that, the "something high-percentage and possibly on fire" is a Flaming Lambourghini. Do not try this at home, or anywhere else for that matter. Also, do not go out drinking with your siblings.**

**- Special Notice (gawsh these are getting long notes): Dixon, I hope you're still in the land of the living. If not, PM me and I'll send the Flying Dutchman over, or something.**

**- In conclusion, reader(s):**

**Review and you get the chart to Isla Cruces. If not...good luck with the Kraken.**


End file.
